Something to Fight For: An Ace Combat Story
by MySweetRhodora
Summary: Osea and Yuktobania are now allies. As a show of "Good faith and friendship," the Osean president pledges to aid Yuktobania in their latest conflict. But one pilot questions the motivations behind this war, as well as his motivations in life.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Combat or the universe created in the game series

**Something to Fight For: An Ace Combat Story**

By mysweetrhodora

**Chapter 1**

**Duty or Murder?**

I am a murderer. A murderer in officer's clothing. My flight lead always told us that when you're in the business of waging war, you need to create an emotional vacuum, because miscalculations and faulty intel can lead to nasty results. 'Sometimes, these things are out of your hands,' he'd say. But when it's you who rains fire down from the sky, it's not so easy.

I was sitting at the bar in the officer's club on base, knocking back my third beer: a practice frowned upon in an active war zone. But none of our enemies would have the ability to reach out and touch us at this air base.

"You can't crawl up into a bottle forever Lieutenant."

I turned to see my flight leader, Major Kenneth Lewel, taking a seat on the stool beside me.

"What did I tell you about not letting your emotions get the best of you?"

"Sir, I can't deal with this shit anymore. I can't believe we were ordered on that mission. Not only that, but I dropped the bomb."

"Intel reported that we were taking out an enemy communications facility. We were ordered to fly and we did. You did what you were ordered to and there's nothing wrong with that."

"It was a comm facility by day sir. We flew at night to avoid enemy AA, but what intel failed to report was that the enemy converted it into a shelter every night. Over 150 civilians dead or wounded, sir. Women and children too."

"Look Russ, I mean Lieutenant Chiang. If you go up there thinking like this you'll be the one who ends up dead. Even a fraction of a second's hesitation and you've got a sidewinder up your tailpipe."

"Please sir, I got enough of that bullshit at the academy."

"Y'know Lieutenant, you're one of the best pilots in this squadron, but you can't go up like this. I'm going to have you kept on the ground until further notice. Maybe when you sober up you'll come to your senses." I didn't care. I only had 90 days left in this shit hole before I was due to leave the military life behind and return to Osea.

He stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked me square in the eye. "We don't have the luxury of pondering the consequences of our actions. You're a fucking pilot, son. Act like one. All this moping around, crying over those lost is for reporters and all the civilians back home."

His words were finally beginning to sink in when we heard boots rushing about outside the officer's club doors. We looked outside and saw security personnel scrambling and taking shots at a civilian truck which rushed the gates.

I froze, confused and inebriated; the gunfire all around me made for a surreal experience. Major Lewel grabbed me and pulled us both to the ground. The truck then exploded sending molten hot ball bearings and nails (improvised shrapnel) in all directions, tearing into the flesh and bone of those closest to the blast.

We both rose to gaze on the smoldering wreckage. Body parts and blood everywhere. Some had got on myself and the Major. If I didn't understand what I was fighting for earlier, I sure as hell had no idea after this.

How did we ever end up in this godforsaken place? What were the motivations behind the politicians that sent us here? What were we fighting for?


	2. Chapter 2

Something to Fight For: An Ace Combat Story

**Chapter 2**

**Motivations**

Grounded. Flight status currently under review by Squadron Command. Major Lewel is there of course, telling them how "unfit for duty" I am.

I'm lying in my quarters staring at the ceiling fan. It's a sweltering 98 degrees Fahrenheit: this puny fan won't suffice. I look out the window onto the barren Jilachi desert. The only thing in sight is a small village populated by those who civilization forgot. The closest real city was about 20 minutes from here by truck. It was probably some revolutionary minded city kid who blew himself up outside the officer's club last night.

I pinned some photographs onto a bulletin board on my wall, chronicling my entire military career. There's me in my cadet uniform: graduation day at the Osean Air Force Academy. My father and grandfather stood on either side of me in uniform as well: the proud military heritage of the Chiang family. If I ever become a father, I'll make sure this legacy stops with me. To the right is a picture of me graduating from flight school after I had my wings pinned on my chest. Mom and Dad look so proud of me. Rumors of a new conflict were already swirling around in the news around this time. I had no illusions of where I would be in the coming months but, I was actually excited about it.

Below is a picture of me and Alexandra: my sweetheart. I remember this photo; we were sitting in a restaurant and had asked the waiter to take a picture of us. I remember that dark blue dress she wore that night: she always knew I liked how she looked in it. Her black wavy hair was pressed up against my face. I couldn't wait for the day when she would go from being Ms. Carothers to Mrs. Chiang. It also looks like this is the only picture on the wall in which I'm wearing civilian clothes. In the garbage can is a letter I got from her a week ago. "I'm tired of waiting for you," she wrote. I don't think I'm going to write back.

Also on the wall are some old newspaper headlines I had saved. "Old 'Blood War' Conflict Renewed," one read. I wasn't even born when the first Blood War occurred. We were taught in school that in 1987, the Yukes went to war with the Republic of Romny on its southern border in order to put down a Coup d'Etat staged by the Heum Administration. Osean newspapers exposed acts of genocide perpetrated by the Yukes, further pushing our two nations to the brink of war. Our leaders didn't think this was worth fighting for. Now, almost thirty years later, we were here: fighting alongside our new allies, the Yuktobanian military. We were here to put down the renewed rebellion along their southern border as a show of, "Good faith and friendship in the new millennium," as the president put it. "The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the sons."

Another headline: "WAR," was all it said. My wing took off from Sand Island Air Base and made a mid-air refueling stop en route to the objective. We made the initial attack runs: lighting fast strikes on the Republic of Romny's military infrastructure. I crossed over their border in my F-35 Lightning II and destroyed an air field. Major Lewel then led us to our new base in the middle of the Jilachi: and old Romnian installation along their border that we captured. To this day, some of the signs are still in Romnian.

There's a knock at my door. "Enter," I say grudgingly. It's Major Lewel. I should snap to attention, but instead I slowly bring myself to my feet and bring myself to a half-assed position of attention.

"I would say at ease but that would be redundant. As you were Lieutenant." I lay back down on the bed. "I just came back from Squadron Command where we discussed your current capacity as a pilot."

"I heard. So what did you tell them? That I should be sent home? I'm a Section 8 right?"

"I simply told them that while you are suffering from a lack of confidence, it's nothing a short amount of time on the ground won't fix."

I was surprised. But I didn't think moping around the base would raise my spirits any. I was more honest with myself than the Major. I was in no condition to fly.

"I also recommended that you were entitled to receive one of these." The Major reached into his pocket and produced an unmarked envelope. I took it from his hand and opened it: a 48 hour pass into the city down the road. "You need to take some time away from the base. Have fun, get drunk, off base of course, then get prepared to saddle up again."

I have to admit I'm actually pleased. I'm not looking forward to getting back in the cockpit just yet, but I really want to get as far away from the base as possible.

"You get any word yet from back home? Any letters come through recently?"

"Just from Alex."

"What'd she say? Did she enclose any naughty photos?"

"No. A 'Dear John.'"

"Well that's too bad son. But look on the bright side."

"Where the hell's the bright side to that?"

"Now you can really have some fun in the city." The Major likes to think he's funny, but this is one of the few times he actually makes me chuckle. "One more thing Lieutenant."

"What is it, sir?"

"Your service is almost up isn't it? A little less than three months from now, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Think about re-upping. The Air Force is holding on to a couple millions of dollars worth of retention bonuses and there's no reason some of that shouldn't be yours."

"Uh, sure sir." It was probably the furthest thing from my mind.

With that the Major left my room, off to another sortie perhaps. I put on my service dress uniform: I wanna look nice in the city but I'm not going to worry about getting my full dress uniform ruined. It's almost 1030: I'll have to hurry and try to hitch a ride with one of the supply trucks headed into town.

Before I leave, I light a cigarette and take a drag. I drop the match into my garbage can and watch the contents burn. I throw in all the crap on my wall and watch it go up in flames as I take another long, satisfying drag on my cigarette. I then stamp out the flames, getting some ashes on my nice shoes. I don't care; I just rush out the door, running away from all the photographs, all the letters and all the newspapers.

For the next 48 hours, I'm not at war. The war isn't going to come for me.

A/N: For those interested, more information on the Blood War and the Republic of Romny can be found on the Ace Combat Wiki. Also, "Section 8" is an outdated military term for someone who is discharged for being unfit for service. It has since become slang for someone with such characteristics.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Alone**

The air base is now long gone from my sight and mind. Never thought I could feel so liberated being stuck on the ground. Turning around to face the front of the truck, I can see past the windshield the outline of New Glubina, or that's what the Yukes have called it since they annexed this territory during the First Blood War. They won't even recognize that this conflict is a continuation of the Blood War of '87: to most of the civilized world it's the "War for Romnian Liberation." We're here to free the people of Romny from the "oppressive" regime they had put into power: here to save them from themselves. Well the locals know what's really going on. This is the Second Blood War we're fighting, and this city's name is Rhaz Ma'en.

As we come up to the city limits, I see little improvised shacks along the side of the road. As our truck rolled by, children sprung out of these little hovels and started chasing after the vehicle. I wave back at them from the rear seat of the truck. They ran as fast as they could, trying to get our attention. The sergeant in the passenger seat hands me a brown paper bag. I look inside: candy.

"They get a kick out of it," the sergeant told me. "Go on, throw some out the rear."

I threw candy to the children and saw them scramble to the ground to pick up the sweets. I saw one corpulent child bash one of the smaller children over the head and take the candy from his hands. These kids are growing up in a brutal world and I wasn't helping any: using candy and bombs to save a struggling society.

The road we were on now continued into the main artery of the city. I could see the market place nearby. I thought I'd take in some of the sights and sounds, maybe buy some fruit. I told the driver to halt the vehicle so I could get out. The sergeant leaned out the passenger side window.

"Hey sir!" I walked over to him. "Just remember to be careful. Being in uniform makes you a marked man. Stick to the main roads and bigger inns and bars. Don't go wandering down back alleys. Remember anybody here is a potential threat to you. They'd just love to take out an officer."

"Thanks. I feel a whole lot better now sergeant."

"Hey, just lookin' out for you sir. We're gonna be back along this main road again in two days. Your little trip should be up by then. Just look for me when it's time to come back."

"Sure sergeant. By the way, I didn't get your name."

"Wallace. Staff Sergeant Christophe Wallace. Just call me Chris, never liked being called Christophe. Don't worry about your name, half the base knows about your story Lieutenant Chiang."

"Gee, ain't that comforting." With that SSgt. Wallace saluted me and I returned his salute. I never really felt comfortable having men nearly 20 years my senior salute me, but the Major always told me I'd get used to it. I watched the truck pull away and found myself in a crowd of locals, walking about the market going about their day. I couldn't see what the sergeant was so worried about. They didn't wave or smile at me but it seemed like they treated me with a sort of indifference, like I'm just another face in the crowd.

I walked to one of the market vendors who was selling dried fruit. I bought from him a bag of dried mangoes and paid him with Osean dollars which seemed to make him very happy. I told him to hold on for a second and in true tourist fashion, I produced a small camera from my pocket. I took a photo of this wrinkly faced old man holding up the 10 I had just given him. He smiled, showing off all eight teeth he still had. With that he waved goodbye to me. "See," I thought to myself, "they're friendly enough."

As I was walking up and down the market I could hear the distinct sound of boots walking about in step. I looked over across the main street and saw a squad of Yuktobanian soldiers patrolling the neighborhood. This was "their" city after all and it was their responsibility to police the population. But then I saw someone walking along down the street towards the squad of soldiers carrying what looked like groceries. The sun was in my eyes but I could discern that it was a female, standing around 5 feet 3 inches tall, black hair tied back and dark skin tanned by the blazing sun that obscured my view of her.

Being a fool who recently ended a long relationship I did the stupid thing and crossed the street hoping to strike up a conversation with her. I could make out that her figure was definitely not that of a little girl. Maybe two years younger than me, five at the most. I was maybe three feet to her rear right side when I saw her bump into one of the uniformed men patrolling the road.

"Hey you should watch where you're going missy." I saw the Yuke soldier grab her by the wrist. "Maybe I could show you how to watch where you're going while you're walking down a busy street eh? It's a good thing you got men like me around. Next time you bump into someone he might not be as friendly as I'm being right now. So what say you come with me and we get a little friendly back at headquarters?" She spit in his face.

"You little…" He grabbed her other wrist and threw her to the ground. I went pale as I saw him raise his sidearm. "Y'know I wouldn't hesitate to waste you right here! Doesn't matter to me. This is a Yuktobanian city sweetheart!"

"Private!" I yelled out. The soldier looked up, pistol still fixed on the girl.

"What you want? Can't you see I'm busy keeping the peace?"

"I'm sorry. I thought I misheard you. Try adding a sir to the end of that Private!"

"Hmph. Little Osean boy thinks he's hot shit huh?" He holsters his pistol. I'm relieved but only slightly. "Those wings on your chest make you some fighter jock? You pilots are all the same."

"If it's all the same to you, I think you should leave the girl alone and continue on your patrol."

"Psh, yeah whatever."

"What was that?"

"Ugh, don't you ever stop with that crap? Fine. Yes sir." He signaled to the rest of the squad to keep on moving, but I didn't let it go. I just had to be the righteous one.

"Private!" I yelled back. "We salute the rank not the man." The squad saluted me and I returned it, but being the officer they could drop their hands only after I did. I held my hand up staring down the one private who was harassing the girl. I met his gaze, looking at him memorizing my face as I memorized his. I dropped my salute and they followed suit, turning away and walking along on their patrol.

I helped the girl up. "Vultures eh?" She doesn't say anything, just scrambles for the groceries she dropped. I help her, but she doesn't seem necessarily thankful. I then have the bright idea of offering her a slice of dried mango. She looks at the fruit, then me and reaches out to my other hand. I think to myself, "Hey she's warming up to me pretty quick." Then I remember: I'm holding the bag with the rest of my dried fruit in that hand.

She snatches the bag and runs down the street. I give chase and see her duck into an alley away from the market. I follow her, making a turn off of the main street and into a dirty back alley. Lost her. Now, I was minus some good fruit and alone again. I hear rushing about coming from the market, but I'm in no hurry. I have nothing to look forward to except finding a bar and get hammered. Who cares if it's only 1:00 in the afternoon: I'm hot, thirsty and very depressed.

I turn around to head back to the main road and am met with a familiar gaze from a familiar face. "Miss me flyboy?"

He tells his buddies to stand back. I expect a good scrap and was looking forward to kicking his ass all the way back to Cinigrad. Too bad he wasn't looking for a fight, just to smack me around. He slams me in the solar plexus with the butt of his rifle and I go down.

"That's it? Even for a flyboy you're pretty weak." He puts his heel down on my chest and smacks me across the face with his rifle. "This is my town. Obey my laws and everything will be copacetic. Now, have a nice day sir."

One more time he slams the butt of his rifle into my forehead. It knocks me out and I lay there, unconscious. I was laying in the smelly back alley of some nowhere town at the edge of the largest desert in the world. Even here, the war came for me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Gray Area**

I regain consciousness to find myself in a strange place. The first thing I notice is the ceiling. Somebody brought me here. I can feel bandages on my abdomen and on my face. Looks like someone had the decency to patch me up. I feel something else. Cold steel held up against my throat. I look to my right and see a young boy, high school age, holding a knife to my neck.

"Give me a reason I shouldn't spill your blood right now." I'm too dazed to respond.

Then I hear a voice coming from the next room. Yelling. Some girl yelling from the next room in a language I don't understand. The boy takes his knife back and stands up, yelling back at the girl. I don't know what they're saying, but I understand enough to feel uncomfortable. Their conversation ends with the boy walking away in a huff. I didn't notice until now that the girl is holding a plate. I hope with all my heart that it's for me. It is.

"Y'know, with all good conscience, I should have let him kill you." I get a good look at the girls face. It's the girl from the market.

"So I guess I left an impression on you seeing as how you brought me into your house."

"Well, well. It can still talk." She sets the plate on a coffee table next to the sofa I'm lying on. "So, Osean dog. Tell me why I shouldn't tell my brother to come back in here and slit your throat."

"You owe me for the mangoes." I try to lighten the mood. "If you wanted me dead so bad then why did you go to the trouble of stopping your brother then? I also assume you're the one who fixed me up, right?"

"Well I do owe you. You did tell off those soldiers at the market and got yourself nearly killed for it, so I think I need to repay you." She cracks a little smirk, "And for the mangoes."

"So it can smile."

"Don't think we're friends. I have seen what you and your Yuke friends are doing to our country, our people. Can't you see what harm this war is doing for us."

"Trust me, I know better than most."

"Then how can you stand by and participate?"

"I'm a pilot. I only know two things: flying and duty. My duty is to fly and put the hurt on the target. I can't afford to get emotional or..."

"Or you're dead. Half a second's hesitation and you're dead. I've heard it all before. But this vacuum of emotion you've made for yourself, it may save your life, but costs hundreds of others." She's got me. "What interest do you have in this part of the world anyway?"

"Just you at the moment."

"Oh, very quick. You're sitting there flirting and people out there are dying."

"Honestly, I didn't even know where this place was until I was ordered to come here. I only have three months left in this shithole and I'm on my way home."

"Well how nice for you. Meanwhile I have to live in this shithole. This shithole is what I call home." She looks like she's close to tears.

"Look I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure when the war's over you'll be able to make a nice home here with your brother, your parents, whoever."

"When the war's over and we're Yuktobanian subjects. And what do you know of my parents? They died a few days ago. They were walking around at night and ducked into a shelter that was used as a comm station during the day. My brother Joachim and I stayed up waiting for them to return but they never came back."

"I remember that day. I remember because I dropped that bomb. I destroyed that comm. station." I should've kept my big mouth shut.

"YOU! I knew I should have left you to die! I should have let Joachim kill you! You BASTARD!" She tried swinging at me.

She was spirited, but not very experienced when it came to fighting. Even wounded, I grabbed her arms and stopped her. Her face was red with rage. Then she stopped struggling. Tears ran down her face. I tried to draw her close but she pulls away and sits on the floor sobbing.

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"I didn't know. We were told it was a comm station, nothing more. Bad intelligence."

"Yes, you are very stupid aren't you. You made an orphan of me. An orphan of my brother. He's so young. You've driven him to get involved with the revolutionary movement to kick you animals out. And now we're going to lose our home because our parents aren't around to make payments on the house. Damn you!"

"Who's taking your house away?"

"The Yukes. They're imposing their rule on us. They want to convert this area into a new public building or something, and without our parents to lay claim to it, we're left on the streets. We only have 7 days to vacate." Now she cries uncontrollably. I want to reach out to her, but she'll only reject me.

"What can I do to help?"

"You? What can you possibly do to help us?"

"I can talk to some high ranking people. The Yukes can't fight this war without us and they'll listen if we're forceful in telling them to build their new buildings in a different part of town."

"Why do you care?"

"I'm done making messes of other people's lives. Your life, your brother's life, that's worth fighting for. What time is it?"

"Quarter to 10."

"Hope he's still awake. Get me a phone." She goes into the next room and hands me the phone from their kitchen, then goes back into the next room. I can hear her talking to her brother, Joachim. I dial up someone from the airbase.

"Major?"

"Hey, Russ. How's the vacation going?"

"Not so great. Listen I was wondering, how much clout do we hold over the Yuke ground forces in the city?"

"Well it's their laws in the New Glubina, but they know when orders come from higher, we call the shots when it comes to their big decisions like how big their troop presence is, and we can override decisions like where their gun emplacements should be and where major construction happens."

"You think we could coerce them into changing their plans about the construction of a new building. Like say get them to change where it's going to be built?

"Sure, but we need a good reason. We can't just tell them what to do on a whim. Why are you asking all this stuff?"

"The Yukes are going to demolish a family's home and kick them out. I wanna stop this from happening. There are plenty of abandoned and bombed out buildings for them to demolish and build on, why not one of them?"

"Well this sounds like it's a personal case. You know we can't do anything for you unless you give back, and as of late you haven't been giving us a whole lot to work with." I know what he's driving at, what he wants. I dread this decision, but it's probably the first time in my life I've acted with real conviction.

"I'll renew my term of service."

"What's that Lieutenant?"

"I'll re-up. Pilots are a valuable commodity and you said I was one of the best you ever saw. I'm sure that's worth asking the Yukes to move their little construction project somewhere else."

"This must really matter to you."

"It does Major."

"Well then, I'll go talk with Colonel Howell. Listen I understand what it's like to have an epiphany and finally realize what's really worth fighting for. I'll tell you about that another time. Meanwhile, tell your friends, or whatever they are to you, that they shouldn't start packing up just yet."

"Thanks Major."

"Welcome back from the brink Lieutenant."

I hang up the phone as the girl walks back into the room.

"So what did your friend say?"

"You don't have to move. We're gonna make the Yukes move their project somewhere else."

"How did you manage that?" She's perplexed and excited at the same time. She leans over next to the sofa.

"Well, it looks like I won't be seeing home anytime soon."

"What? You're not going home in three months?" I nod to her. "What have you done? What have you done to yourself?" Her face softens and it looked like she was overtaken with sympathy for me. She reaches out to touch my face: the first real tenderness I feel from her. She leans over to embrace me and I rise up from the couch. The pain is a small price to pay to be this close to her.

"My name is Mahriana. Mahriana Kadeshii."

"I'm Russell Chiang." I look over at the plate on the coffee table. Dried mangoes.

I have one day left in this city. One more day to take care of things before I return to the airbase. One more day to do some good.

"What did you say about your brother being involved with some revolutionary movement?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Something to Fight For**

It's now midday. Mahriana fixed me breakfast earlier this morning: honey on flatbread with slices of mango on the side (I guess these people really love mango). I remember her little brother Joachim sitting across from me at the table, uneasy eating in my presence. Who could blame him? I did kill his parents. Poor kid. But now he's leading me by the hand down a dusty street.

Before we left earlier today, Mahriana dressed me in some of her father's clothes. Now, not in uniform, I completely blend in with the crowd. She explained to her brother what I wanted to do today before I had to return to the base. He was surprised but I still don't think it was enough to get him to like me.

"Hey, Joachim! Slow down! I can't keep up."

"We have to hurry if you're serious about this. We're late as it is."

Just then I feel Joachim stop. He falls back into my arms. I look up and see a Yuktobanian soldier. I look at his face and see that it's the same soldier from before: the one who roughed me up in the alley yesterday. I can feel my side ache at the sight of him.

"Hey kid watch where you're going!" He raises the butt of his rifle about to bring it down on Joachim's head. "You little piece of…"

"It was just an accident sir," I say to him. "Look we're in a rush. He's just a kid who wasn't looking where he was going. Please just let us pass."

The soldier looks at my face, studying it closely. He seems fixated on the shiner he gave me on my forehead. Crap. He recognizes me.

"Whatever. Just keep your little friend in line and there won't be any trouble. You get me?"

"Oh yes of course." Thank God.

The squad of soldiers continues on its way and I pick up Joachim and bring him to his feet. I would expect a thank you but with this kid, I know I won't be getting one.

"Come on, we're really late now." He slowed down his pace just a little bit.

We continued past a few street vendors that Joachim respectfully turned away. We were now far from the heart of the city, approaching the outskirts when Joachim led me down an alley behind a seedy looking bar. Leaning against the rear wall of the establishment were two men, one tall and lanky, dark skinned with a noticeable 5 o'clock shadow; the other short and portly but clean shaven. They would have been perfect as a comedy duo.

Joachim exchanges words with the men, words I don't comprehend considering my minimal grasp of their language. The tall one points at me, a look of aggravation on his face, but the fat one motions for me to come forward. He then grabs my right arm and presses me against the wall and starts frisking me. When he's satisfied that I'm not carrying any bombs or weapons, he lets me go. I can see the tall one kicking some dirt around on the ground. From under the sand he pulls on a latch which opens a door leading into the basement of the building. Joachim descends into the dark hallway and takes my hand pulling me with him down the rabbit hole.

The descent wasn't too far and we were eventually in a corridor lit by small construction lamps, men armed with rifles were standing at either side of the hall. Their weapons were woefully outdated, some of them armed with bolt-action rifles from the earlier 20th century. How in the hell did they stand any chance against the combined might of the Osean and Yuktobanian militaries?

The hall opened into a large room with several old men standing around a large table. On it was a map of the town, red pins scattered across the paper. I ponder what these could possibly be for, but I don't have much time to think as I am grabbed on each arm by two large men and taken away from Joachim. He waves goodbye to me: certainly a good sign.

I find myself in a dark room, unlit save for a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. I am put in a chair and see one of the old men from the other room walk in. He stands over me, a cigarette in his mouth and crumbs of bread in his large gray beard. He puffs smoke in my face and speaks to me in a very heavy accent.

"What the hell are you doing here!?"

"I'm here to help."

"I hear from the boy that you've helped enough. You were the one responsible for the bombing of the shelter the other day?"

"Yes sir I am."

"Oh so the boy has respect for his elders. That's good. You'll see that will take you far in our culture. However, you will also find that respect and trust must be earned, and so far I don't feel you have done anything warranting my trust."

"Sir, I don't want to see this war go on anymore."

"Why? Miss your home? Wanna go see your precious Osean sweetheart again? I won't endorse you just because you want to go home."

"No sir, that's not why. You might not believe it, but I care about what happens to the people here. I don't want things like what I did that night to keep ruining the lives of the people of Rhaz Ma'en." The old man was taken aback by my words.

"Normally such a plea wouldn't faze me but I'm surprised: you called this place Rhaz Ma'en and not New Glubina. Either you've been studying our culture or you hate the Yuke occupation as much as we do."

"Believe me sir, I care about what happens to this place. I care about the people and I don't want to see them suffer anymore."

"You mean you don't want to see Mahriana suffer anymore." This time I'm taken aback. "Oh the boy called me early this morning and told me all about it. He knows how you feel about his sister and he's a little less than happy. Though, I think you're growing on him." I begin to relax a feel a little more relieved as I can observe the man's manner softening.

"That doesn't mean you have my complete faith. You must do something for us before we can trust you, and also before we can put your particular skills to work."

"My skills, sir?"

"You're a pilot aren't you? That would come in handy for us. You've seen the weapons we use, the tactics we resort to. A top of the line jet fighter would be a great asset to us."

"How am I supposed to acquire a jet for your purposes?"

"You'll have to figure that out. What I can do is bring you in the next room and give you the coordinates of a friendly airport, one of the few left in Romnian hands. I'll give you a number that you can call from your airbase in order to coordinate plans. When do you return there?"

"Tomorrow morning sir."

"Call this number from your base as soon as you have time tomorrow." He hands me a small slip of paper which I place in my pocket. "It's important that you establish a line of communication with us as soon as possible. Now get out of here and take that boy with you. He's trustworthy but I can't deny that he's a bit of a nuisance sometimes."

"Yes sir!" The old man opens the door and lets me out. I grab Joachim's hand and lead him through the corridor and up the stairs. We were back in the alley and bid farewell to the two "guards" outside. This time they smile at me and we continue on our way back home.

Back at Joachim and Mahriana's house, I prepare for my return back to base tomorrow. I let Mahriana know that I am now involved with liberating this place, but I can't let her know in what capacity.

"What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"The truck picking me up will be passing through the market at 1000."

"Do you know when you'll return?"

"To be honest, I don't know if I ever will."

"Don't say that!" She grabs onto me and it feels like she'll never let go. "Never say that. I will see you again, right?"

"Sure." I feel the need to reassure her or she may never let me leave and accomplish my new mission.

She gets up to put Joachim to bed and I lie back on the couch and try to sleep. I can't. But just then, I hear footsteps in the darkness.

"You will come back won't you?" I feel Mahriana lie down next to me and we hold each other in an embrace sweeter than any I have ever felt. We hold on tighter and tighter and consummate our relationship in the darkness of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"**Do You Remember AWWNB?"**

1000. The market vendors have been out for about an hour now, but business is just starting to pick up, dust and sand being kicked up by all the townspeople buying their groceries. The yelling of vendors and shoppers is broken by the sound of a deuce and a half truck coming down the street. I know who it is: SSgt. Wallace on time like he said.

"Hey there flyboy! Enjoy your little holiday?"

"It was… interesting sergeant."

"Didn't I tell you to call me Chris? Anyway, looks like you got into a little too much fun there, eh?" He noticed the bruise on my face. Fine by me if he thinks I got in a bar brawl. Certainly a good alibi for what I had been up to.

"Yeah well, I gotta get my kicks while I'm still young enough to get them."

"I hear ya." He shifts the truck into first and honks for some townspeople to get out of the way. "Wasn't over a pretty young thing was it?" I hesitate to respond, leading him on. "Oh ho, well looks like you're over whats-her-name already." At least that much was true.

The ride back wasn't very long, but the staff sergeant starts breaking out the war stories which I really pay no attention to. I'm busy going over in my head how the hell I was supposed to make off with a jet.

Back in my room, I change out of my service uniform and down to a tank top and PT shorts. Why was it always so damn hot?

"Hey Lieutenant." I forgot to close my door, and Major Lewel walks in. This was just what I needed to get in the way of my planning time. I had called the partisans as soon as I got back on base, and they gave me a timeline: they needed the plane in seven days. I had no time for small talk with the Major.

"So what exactly was so important that you re-upped? Last we spoke, you seemed to have no stomach left for this war."

"Dad always told me to consider a career in the Air Force. Thought I could retire a Colonel with my skill and ambition, eh?" I wasn't fooling the Major. God, why didn't he just leave?

"And that whole deal about stopping the Yukes from tearing down that house was nothing then?" I stare stupidly at the floor, nothing to say.

"Remember when I said I knew something about finding out what to fight for?" I recalled the Major mentioning something about it on the phone when I called him from Mahriana's house.

"Well, do you remember 'A World With No Boundaries?'"

"Yeah, they were terrorists who tried to destroy the world's superpowers after the Belkan War and rule the whole thing." I still remembered my high school history.

"Pft. Terrorists? I guess I should have expected that to be the bullshit they teach in schools today."

I didn't understand what the Major was getting at. I wasn't exactly in the mood for a history lesson. But just then he peered his head into the hallway, looked up and down it and locked the door.

"Well if that's what you were taught, then call me a terrorist, or at least ex-terrorist." I'm sure that he could see the puzzlement in my eyes.

"I met the best pilots I ever knew during the Belkan War, Osean or otherwise. Tangling with Roundtable fighters was probably the most frightening and satisfying experience of my life. And sharing the battlefield with those pilots made me realize one thing: that I had more in common with them than I did with the politicians and generals who had sent me to fight.

"When you've been in a real dogfight, none of this bombing run shit, you learn what you're really made of. And to me and many others I had met, it was we who survived the toughest air battles in history who knew what it takes to lead the world and usher in a new era of peace.

"Looking back on it now, even our vision of the world, free of control from fat cat politicians and businessmen fighting over the world's resources, was merely a pipedream. But to me, this was worth fighting for, infinitely more worthwhile than dividing up the former Belka among the victorious.

"It was underground at first. The coded messages sent between pilots and soldiers from all sides rallied us together and we coordinated our plans to found 'A World Without Boundaries.' We were all piss and vinegar in those days. When we decided to strike, it seemed like there was nothing that could stop us.

"Then it all came crashing down around us. Our vision for the future destroyed."

"But Major, why aren't you dead right now? Last time I checked, treason was punishable by death."

"Well Russ, if you know the right people, you can get away with most anything. I distinguished myself during the Belkan War as an ace pilot. My record was impressive, and I was also the son of a Major General. Besides, the air forces of all sides involved were mere shells of what they used to be, most pilots having died either fighting against or with AWWNB. Osea couldn't afford to lose a man like me."

"Sir, why exactly are you telling me this?"

"Look. I don't know exactly why or for whom you re-upped, and frankly I don't really care. But I could tell over the phone that you re-upped for a reason more important than making daddy proud or getting a solid pension.

"I told you this because I want you to know that I broke the law to fight for what I believed in, and I don't regret any of it. If that's what it takes to do what you feel is right, then do it."

"Sir I…"

"Get some rest. We have a briefing tomorrow at 0800. We're gonna be sortying in 48 hours so get your mind right. I hope your little vacation has got you in the right state of mind to handle flying a plane."

The Major got up and left my room, closing the door behind him.

An upcoming mission? I knew what kind of opportunity that presented me with, and I certainly needed to get in the right state of mind to fly, and steal, that plane.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**AAR**

0800 hours. The squadron comes in after morning PT and chow to the briefing room. We hold a group AAR, or After Action Review, of the mission myself and the Major flew. The two of us had been debriefed individually, but the Air Force likes to make a point of pointing out all the "sustains" (things that went right) and "improves" (things you fucked up) about every mission. In a cold, typically military fashion, we chose to blame the intel folks for the civilians who died in the attack.

"See man, you followed the intel to the letter. The Air Force doesn't ask anything more of you." Lieutenant Brian Haybeck. Academy buddy and boy scout. He always sits next to me during briefings, trying to ease me into talking with him like we used to. We didn't talk like buddies anymore.

"Is this some big squadron wide effort to make me feel better?"

"Jeez Russ, if you're gonna be such an ass about it then never mind."

"Sorry man, it's just been a lot to swallow."

"Yeah don't worry about it." He limply pats me on the shoulder.

The Lieutenant Colonel, our squadron commander, wraps up the AAR and moves on to our upcoming mission. He assigns myself and Major Lewel as the main effort and puts Brian and his wingman on Ready Five, to scramble their jets in case of an emergency. This is as much as I hear before I begin drifting focus toward Brian, attentively taking notes on the mission he wouldn't even be flying. He was always like that.

It's freshman year at the academy. The bus that picked me up from the airport comes to a halt in front of the main campus and upperclassmen rush aboard yelling expletive after expletive at the new group of freshman who have arrived. I stand there as a junior year cadet yells in my ear. I can't wait to get to my room.

After we have an accountability formation in front of the academy dorms, we fall in to our rooms. I arrive at my assigned room and meet Brian for the first time. He greeted me with a smile and firm handshake. Unlike me he's not an Air Force brat, but nonetheless a Type A personality: high school football star who passed up playing for a powerhouse university in favor of becoming a fighter pilot. We became fast friends, but competed at every event. I ran track because I had done so throughout high school. He ran track having played wide receiver for his high school football team, but he still got better times than me.

Sophomore year. As cadets it's the first time we get weekend liberty to go into town instead of being restricted to the dorms. Since we were too young to drink, Brian and I head into an ice cream parlor on a hot April afternoon. Two young ladies are there. Against his protests, I egg Brian into going over and sitting with them. They introduce themselves as Christina and Alexandra. Christina and Brian hit it off right away. Alexandra showed little interest in me upon our first meeting, but they agree to meet us again for a double date the following weekend.

Senior year. Christina and Brian were sickeningly cute together. They were that couple that made you wanna gag when you saw them together. He made sure to call her every evening before lights out and discuss every detail of each other's respective days. I especially hated it when they finished each other's sentences. Most of all, I hated it that Alexandra and I weren't like that. Looking back, I suppose that I always was more invested in our relationship than she was. I think she only stayed with me because she didn't want to be alone.

Mid November rolled around and it was time for the annual Academy Ball. Christina and Brian share a table with Alex and myself. When we danced my eyes wandered to the happy couple. They held each other so close. I put my hand on the small of Alex's back and pull her in closer, but I feel a slight hesitation from her before she eventually presses up against me. We had been having sex since junior year and we still weren't as intimate as Brian and Christina, who to my knowledge had yet to do it.

Later that night Alex comes to my room and Brian and Christina go out for a walk. After we finish with our business and get dressed, the two walk in and Christina shows Alex her finger with a ring Brian had gotten her. The two begin jumping up and down and screaming. I remember going to the jeweler's with Brian to pick that out and thinking to myself, would Alex ever say yes to a proposal from me?

Two weeks after graduation and commissioning was Brian and Christina's wedding. I gave the best man speech for Brian, the whole time thinking about my future with Alex, wanting so badly for our relationship to be like this, but knowing deep down that it never would. So what was it that Mahriana and I shared after only two days of knowing each other?

"Lieutenant Chiang, back brief time. What were the coordinates for the target you're hitting?"

"Umm, sir…" Brian points to a line of alpha numeric code on his pad with his pencil. "Uniform-Victor-One-Five-Five-Zero-Eight-Six-Three-Eight."

"Hmm, alright. Well look like you're paying attention then." Major Lewel, sitting in the row behind me smacks me on the back of the head. The man next to him has himself a little chuckle.

"Well that's all I got gentlemen. Rest up and study the mission details till you got it memorized." The Lieutenant Colonel got up to leave.

"Room, A-ten-SHUN!" Major Lewel gets the room to stand at attention as the Lieutenant Colonel exits.

"Hey sir, think I can study the mission specs with you later today?" I ask the Major apologetically.

"Yea sure Russ. Just pay attention next time and save me the effort." He pats me on the shoulder and walks away with another Major to talk about the mission.

"Hey thanks Brian you really had my back there."

"Hey it's no sweat man. Y'know when we get back to Osea you should really come by the house. Christina would love to see you again. You can even bring Alex." Guess nobody except the Major knew about that.

"Yeah sure, sounds like fun. See you around."

"Hey wanna shoot some hoops later?"

"Nah man I'm gonna bone up on this mission seeing as how I paid such good attention during the brief."

"Ha, yeah no sweat man. See you later."

Yes, I definitely needed to study the mission specs. I needed to find the most opportune time to deviate from the specs.


End file.
